So, you know how I have three kids, a part time job, a husband, a household, and a fetus to manage? And how I can still write a book in like six months? And how people think I'm nuts?
Well, the only way that works is that I tell myself that it's something I have to do. I have to make the time for it. I have to wake up at four in the morning and type chapters on my phone and quit whining and just write the darn book. And there's no such thing as an obstacle so huge as to make me stop working on a project, especially during those precious weekend hours.
It's true. There is no obstacle so huge as that. There is, however, one small enough.
The stomach virus.
Yep! Caught a DISGUSTING stomach virus this weekend and spent all of Sunday in bed, either at home with a bucket or at the hospital with an IV stuck in my arm.
I even got all excited because I was going to the hospital for a few hours, where it's Calm! and Quiet! I merrily packed up my Kindle and netbook (well, as merrily as one can with extreme nausea,) and a ton of cords. Turns out, though, that the nurses can just stick something in your IV without telling you that it'll knock you out STONE COLD FOR SIXTEEN HOURS. Which is what happened to me.
Which means I didn't get anything done, writing-wise, this weekend. Also, my house exploded with laundry and kitchen debris.
So, yeah. I'm not invincible. And I've been put in my place, by a freaky microscopic organism. I've been SCHOOLED, that sometimes I can't write and sometimes that's not because I'm lazy or whining.
On the upside - I'm really glad I had the experience of being knocked unconscious with drugs, because I need to do that to Havah anyway, and now I'll know exactly how it feels. (See? Can't stop my brain. For the most part.)
What about you, sweet readers? When's a time that you've been put in your place, writing-wise or otherwise?